In Motion
by somethingsdont
Summary: BB. Booth is displeased with Brennan's decision-making.


**Title:** In Motion  
**Author:** Lucy (somethingsdont)  
**Pairing:** Booth/Brennan  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Timeline:** None  
**Summary:** Booth is displeased with Brennan's decision-making.

Written for Kera, beta'd by Sam, two people who rock my world over at LJ.

* * *

He was quiet as he approached her, eyes studying her stature. She leaned against the passenger side of his vehicle, discreetly pressing her palm against her bruised abdomen. She was breathing hard. He paused before her, hand reaching out, and she turned away before his fingertips landed lightly on her chin, urging her back. Back to him.

She shrugged it away, her chin withdrawing for a moment before it lifted again, her jaw steeling. His hand remained suspended in the air. He sighed, breath heavy, and reached instead for the car door. He pulled it open and motioned at her.

"Get in."

"I don't like being ordered around, Booth."

He ran his hand over his face in frustration. "Just get in the car, Bones. I'll drive you home."

"I can take a cab. You need to get back to work, and my residence is out of your way."

He stepped closer, towering over her tilted frame. "Bones," he said, his words tinged with agitation, "will you just shut up and—" He took a deep breath, softening. She was hurting. She didn't say anything, but he knew she was. He knew these things. He knew everything and nothing. He took a small step back, gave her room to breathe. "I'm sorry," he murmured, genuinely apologetic. "I just… back there—"

She straightened, the hand on her abdomen falling to her side. "I'll let you drive me home, Booth, but on one condition."

"What's that?"

"You don't stay."

He frowned. "I don't understand."

Her eyes were pleading, even as her words remained ordinary. "There's nothing to understand, Booth. I would like to be alone tonight."

His eyes traced the bruise across her temple, and he resisted the urge to brush the discolored skin with his lips. There were reasons, he knew, reasons why the unbearable ache he felt in his chest was too strong for what defined their relationship, inappropriately strong. There were reasons why basic human compassion and empathy were the only things he was allowed to feel for her. Not _this_, whatever it was. But he felt it, burning hot in his chest. He felt it, and he couldn't stop it.

He shook his head, exhaling heavily. "You shouldn't have gone in there without me."

Her jaw clenched. "That wasn't your call."

"Bones, you should've waited for backup."

"If I hadn't entered when I did," she countered, "that boy would be dead."

"And if Fleming had been carrying a weapon, you would be." Immediately, his chest clenched. "He could've been armed, Bones, and you—"

"I deduced that he wasn't."

His voice rose again. "You can't _deduce_ things like that. Not when it's your life on the line."

"Booth, why are you becoming so agitated? It's over. I saved a young boy's life."

"Almost losing your own in the process."

"I have a few bruises. That's all. I'm fine, Booth. You wouldn't be this angry if that boy was your son."

His eyes snapped to hers, unrelenting. "Don't even—"

"As a parent," she reasoned, "your paternal instincts are to protect your offspring."

He raged. "This has nothing to do with—"

"My odds of success were very good," she continued. "You would've encouraged my interference had that boy been Parker."

He slammed the car door shut with as much force as he could muster. She startled, and he derived a twisted sense of triumph. "I wanted that boy to live as much as you did, but the FBI has _rules_. Protocol. Situations are handled one way and one way only. You went against that. You put your life in danger. You put the entire backup team at risk. I almost _lost_ _you_."

A flash of need glazed across her eyes, and he couldn't help himself. He reacted.

He pressed her against the side of the car, hips pushing desperately into hers. A whimper escaped her lips, and he immediately pulled away, aware of her bruised body and the force with which he was crushing her. But she pulled his hips back to hers, roughly grinding as she tilted her head up to his awaiting lips. She opened her mouth to him, and he accepted everything that was offered like it would be his last taste. He drank her in, hands grasping at her cheeks, lips tugging frantically at hers, melding. His tongue entered her, searching for sensation, and he heard her moan mingle with his, the sounds vibrating against his lips. He felt her teeth scraping against him unintentionally in their fervor.

He needed this, needed her. Needed her to know that what he was doing – what _they_ were doing together – was not a manifestation defined by a spur of the moment desperation.

Her hips were pushing franticly against his, seeking friction, and he responded in kind. But they needed to stop. They needed to stop before he shoved her into the car and fucked her senseless. This wasn't the way he wanted. It couldn't be.

He pulled away abruptly, breathing hard. He could hear her heart pounding in rhythm with his. Her eyes opened, and he saw in them vulnerability and lust and the last remnants of surprise. Her lips swelled red with evidence of his urgency, of his claim. Her cheeks were warm beneath his palms.

"Bones…"

"Take me home."

"I'm not—"

"I know," she said softly, lips barely brushing his. "Just take me home."

"You're not mad?"

She smiled faintly. "I might be in the morning."

He slid his hand gently across her abdomen. "I'm sorry if I hurt you—"

She shook her head. "It didn't hurt while you were kissing me."

He chuckled. "I should kiss you to sleep tonight, then," he teased.

She regarded him seriously. "Will you do that?"

"Kiss you to sleep?"

"Yes."

He smiled at how absurd it was, how easily they transitioned. "I—yeah, Bones, I'll kiss you to sleep tonight."

He pulled open the car door again, and this time, she climbed in.


End file.
